Instagram's version of my morning routine would look something like this:
5:30 a.m. alarm. (I'm a morning person!)
Soft lighting, meditation, journaling in a beautiful leather-bound notebook.
Green smoothie that costs $47 and has 14 ingredients.
Yoga flow while looking serene.
Cold plunge maybe?
Coffee in a sustainable cup, at a clean table, alone with my thoughts.
Maybe some journaling about gratitude.
Here's the actual version:
The Real Morning Routine (6:15 a.m. Wake-Up Call)
I don't have an alarm that works. I set an alarm—probably for 5:45—but it gets snoozed by my body on autopilot. What actually wakes me up is my daughter headbutting my face at 6:15, saying, "Mom. Mom. Mom," in that voice that means she's been awake for who knows how long and has decided this is an emergency.
Or sometimes it's my son yelling from the hallway, "IS IT TIME?" No, buddy. Not yet. Never yet.
I lie in bed for approximately 47 seconds thinking about how I used to wake up peacefully and how I have no idea when that stopped happening. Then I get up because the chaos has officially started.
Step One: Survive the Kitchen (6:20 a.m.)
I stumble downstairs, and immediately three things need to happen:
- Find my keys (where are they always?)
- Start coffee
- Keep the toddler from eating dog food
I genuinely can't function without coffee, and I'm not pretending otherwise. But here's the thing: I start every morning with a big glass of water with electrolytes before I touch the coffee pot. It's not glamorous but it's the one thing I won't skip. My hydration drink is basically my non-negotiable. One glass, sitting at the kitchen counter, while I'm still half-asleep and my daughter climbs on my lap.
Then coffee. Regular coffee, usually with a splash of collagen powder (which is basically just vanilla flavor masquerading as wellness, but I like it and it doesn't hurt). Sometimes I make it fancy with actual good coffee, sometimes it's whatever's in the Keurig. Both versions are getting me through.
Step Two: The Morning Logistics (6:30–7:30 a.m.)
This is where my morning gets very un-Instagram-like, and very real.
My son needs to eat breakfast. My son also refuses to eat most breakfast foods. So breakfast is usually scrambled eggs or cereal or toast with peanut butter, served with the kind of negotiation you'd use for a hostage situation. "Can you just eat something? Okay, what if it's this? No? Fine, what about that?"
Meanwhile, my daughter is awake awake—like, full energy, singing, climbing on things, asking "why" approximately 600 times.
I'm trying to drink my coffee.
My husband is usually still asleep or in the shower. I'm not bitter about this. Okay, maybe a little.
I find my son's socks (which I will spend eight minutes looking for). I find a shirt he deems acceptable (which is like 3 out of 50 shirts in his closet). I'm managing the toddler, the breakfast situation, and the general chaos while also trying to remember if I showered yesterday or if I'm doing that today.
(Today, I'm probably not showering.)
Step Three: The Pre-Departure Scramble (7:30–7:50 a.m.)
At this point, we're like 30 minutes from needing to leave for school drop-off. The entire vibe has shifted from "maybe we can be calm" to "we are in survival mode and everyone knows it."
My son needs shoes. His backpack needs to be somewhere specific. I need to make sure I've put something resembling a lunch in his lunch box. Did I pack it yesterday? I don't remember. I throw together a PBJ on whatever bread is available and call it done.
My daughter needs a diaper change, which she's decided to protest with the fury of a tiny person with strong opinions.
I'm still in my workout clothes from yesterday or my "mom clothes" (which is to say: whatever was on top of the laundry pile). My hair is in a ponytail that I did while my eyes were still closed.
My coffee is cold. I drink it anyway because caffeine doesn't have a temperature requirement.
Step Four: The Moment I Almost Never Get (7:50–8:00 a.m.)
If we're early—and honestly, sometimes we are, which feels like witchcraft—I have maybe 10 minutes where my son is at the bus stop or I've dropped him off, and my daughter is occupied in her car seat or at preschool or with my husband for a minute.
This is when I'm supposed to meditate. Or journal. Or do a sun salutation or something.
What I actually do: sit in my car (or at the kitchen table if we're home) with my cold coffee, scroll my phone, and just... exist without someone asking me something. Sometimes I text my friend about last night's Real Housewives (very important wellness activity). Sometimes I literally just stare at nothing.
This 10 minutes is my non-negotiable, though. Not the meditation. Not the journaling. Just... the quiet.
What I Thought Would Stick (But Didn't)
Meditation: I bought the app. I did it for three days. Now I have a meditation subscription I'm too embarrassed to cancel.
Journaling: I have a very beautiful journal that's still pristine. I wrote in it once. I think it's judging me.
Green smoothies: They taste like grass and broken dreams. I don't care if they're supposed to be healthy.
Yoga: I have a yoga mat. I use it for stretching occasionally. I do not flow gracefully.
Waking up at 5 a.m.: Have you met my kids? Have you met my body? This is not happening.
Skincare routine: I wash my face when I shower, which isn't every day because I have two small humans and limited energy.
What Actually Stuck
Hydration: Truly, the electrolyte water is the one thing. I don't know why it stuck and the meditation didn't, but there's something about that cold glass of water that feels essential. Maybe it's because I can do it while actively breaking up a fight between my kids. Maybe it's because my body genuinely feels different when I'm hydrated. Either way: non-negotiable.
Coffee: Yes, this is obvious. But it's also real, and I think that matters. I'm not pretending coffee is a wellness drink. It's not. It's caffeine and comfort, and I need it.
Movement: Not a formal workout (that's after the kids are down), but moving. Getting my son ready, which involves motion. Walking downstairs. The general chaos of managing my house. It's not intentional exercise, but my body's not dormant.
Quiet time: Even if it's just 10 minutes where nobody's demanding something from me. This has been the most protective thing for my mental health, honestly. Not fancy quiet. Just... quiet.
The Things I've Stopped Trying
I'm not waking up early. I'm not meditating consistently. I'm not starting my day with ginger lemon water and positive affirmations. I'm not having "me time" before the kids wake up because I'm also not waking up before my kids, and I've made peace with this.
This used to bother me. I thought a "real" morning routine required a bunch of stuff I hated doing but was supposed to love. Then I realized: I get to design this. My morning doesn't have to look like someone else's wellness influencer fantasy.
My morning looks like: chaos, hydration, coffee, negotiating breakfast, finding socks, and maybe 10 minutes of breathing room. And honestly? I'm pretty good at it.
What This Actually Looks Like in Practice
6:15–6:25 a.m.: Get headbutted awake, make it to the kitchen, try to remember what year it is.
6:25–6:30 a.m.: Hydration drink, water with electrolytes (VitaWild, always). This is non-negotiable and takes five minutes.
6:30–7:00 a.m.: Coffee, breakfast negotiation, toddler management. Aim for getting one thing right. Today that thing is the coffee.
7:00–7:45 a.m.: Get my son ready for school. This includes the socks situation, which I could write a whole article about but won't. Manage the toddler. Consider whether I need to shower (usually, no). Check backpack situation.
7:45–8:00 a.m.: Drive/bus situation. Come home or wait. Sit in the car with cold coffee.
8:00 a.m.: Get toddler situated. Maybe drink a second cup of coffee. Maybe start my actual workday. Maybe just sit for a second.
This is my real morning. It's not aspirational. It's not Instagram-worthy. But it works for me, and I show up for it every day.
The Actual Wellness Part
Here's what I've learned: wellness for a busy mom isn't about adding more things to do. It's not about waking up earlier or doing yoga or buying the expensive supplements.
It's about being honest about what you can actually maintain and then doing that thing consistently.
My morning wellness routine is: hydration, coffee, moving my body (even if it's just managing chaos), and a few minutes where nobody needs anything from me. That's it. That's the whole list.
Some mornings I add a 10-minute walk before anyone wakes up (fine, this happens maybe twice a month). Some mornings I remember to put on sunscreen. Some mornings I shower and feel like a human. But the core—the thing that has to happen every day—is hydration, coffee, and showing up even though it's chaotic.
Everything else is a bonus.
The Bottom Line
Your morning doesn't have to match some aspirational Instagram ideal. It doesn't have to include expensive smoothies or meditation or waking up at an inhumane hour. It just has to work for your actual life, the one where you have actual obligations and actual children and an actual body that probably wants sleep.
Mine is noisy and chaotic and involves a lot of searching for socks. But it also involves hydration and coffee and a few minutes of breathing room, and somehow, that's enough.
That's the real morning routine: showing up, taking care of yourself with the same things that have worked for humans forever (water, caffeine, quiet), and letting go of the fantasy version that never was going to happen anyway.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find where my daughter hid my car keys. This is real wellness.